Inflicted
by BlackOblivion
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki had no one by his side and never will. He holds his own by slowly wounding himself day by day and it will only get worse. This time, he can't contain his suffering any longer and does something he may regret later on.


My head is going all over the place with plots today and I decided just type my head's thoughts up. This is on the depressing side for some reason :/

**Warning: Self-infliction **

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, if I did, so many people (*cough*Bach*cough*) would be dead and Byakuya wouldn't have been hurt ;-;

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No one noticed me and no one cared. This wasn't surprising in the least. I've always hoped that someday, someone, _anyone, _would finally ask, 'Are you ok?' to me, but it never happened.

My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. I am a student at Karakura High. Orange was my natural hair color that always stood amongst people. I live alone at a small apartment that cost just enough for me to handle. My family had died long ago in an accident. To be honest, no remorse was felt for them. Why you may ask? Because they didn't fucking care either. In their eyes…no wait…_everyone's_ eyes, I made absolutely no achievement. People and friends started to keep their distance from me and I had no fucking clue why. In short, I am always alone.

Like a regular day, the warm sun beat down, but no warmth hit me. My heart was already stone and I am damn sure nothing could heal it. A trademark scowl was always on my face and the expression never changed. In view, groups of people were smiling, laughing with friends. Me…Yeah, I was a different story. None of them understood nor noticed the pain that was growing day by day.

During school, I always sat at the end of the classroom. When the teacher talks, all of it was tuned out and when I was called, it was obviously ignored. When the bell rung, I always avoided people and went straight to the bathroom. The lock was engaged with a _click!_ Just to be sure, I checked each stall in case anyone was here still. After knowing was here my hand went into my back pocket of my jeans and slim fingers gripped something in it. Walking toward the sink, the item got pulled out. It was revealed to be a pocket-knife. The sleeves of my school uniform were pulled up to let all the scars, bruises and cuts visible to the eye. None of it was by accident; all of it was on purpose. No one ever saw him as suicidal. It was because to the world, I was _nothing. _The tip of the blade was pressed on an unmarked patch of skin. I applied the pressure and glided it along my arm. A newly made cut was formed and the blood was steadily dripping to the floor, staining the tiles red. A small moan was made as the cut started to send jolts of painful pleasure through my veins. This feeling was the best I could ever have. It was better than feeling absolutely nothing.

More and more cuts were made all over each part of my body. Legs, arms, and chest. Scars and bruised patches of skin were already covering most of my body. It was all covered by clothes like jackets and stuff, so no one could accuse me of anything. The blade was then cutting at my wrists. They were slit open and I couldn't hold back the pleasured noises escaping my lips. All of this was daily, no matter how many times I tried to stop, it never worked. Back then, my friends actually tried to comfort me and that worked for awhile, but when they left, what happened? You guessed right, it just got worse.

I reached for the sink and turned on the cold water and started to wash away the blood and cover up the inflicted wounds once more. How could he ever heal?

-888-

My walk home was hard enough. The pain kept coming back in waves and from time to time I had to limp. I tried my best to hide it. Most people thought I was just doing it for attention. Hah! Like hell, I was. None of them understands, and none of them ever will. They have no idea what I have been living through. Can I even call this a life anymore?! Once home, my bags dropped to the ground with a loud thump. The blade was let out once again. It's a never-ending cycle and it will keep on going and going. Attempts to stop were forgotten and I couldn't love myself anymore. The blade was stabbed right through my palm. A hiss of pain was heard in the silence and I bit my bottom lip, hard enough to cast blood, to suppress a scream as the other palm was stabbed straight through as well. My breaths were coming out ragged and both my eyes were shut as I let the pain spread and spread. The smell of blood overwhelmed my sense when I stabbed my arms next. Blood splattered everywhere and nothing could help me escape this eternal Hell.

"Heh…All of this is just a fucking game called life…It's cruel and stupid. What do I have to live for?" Surprisingly, I could still laugh despite the situation. However, the laughs were hollow and held no emotion. The blade continued doing its work, reopening scars, creating new bleeding cuts and stabs. After finishing up, I cleaned up the blade and headed down the hall to my room. I plopped myself down on the bed with a huge sigh. My eyes closed, but I just couldn't fall asleep. Fingernails started to dig into my back, making brute scratches down my back. My orange hair was messy and damp and my ochre eyes were filled with darkness. A flashback hit me like a wave all of a sudden.

_-Flashback-_

"_Ichigo! You have to stop hurting yourself so much! C'mon you can always talk to us about it!" Rukia's voice was worried that Ichigo was going to kill himself at any moment. Many other friends were glancing at Ichigo worriedly as well. They all cared about him and didn't want him to commit suicide. _

"_Look it's f-" Ichigo started and got cut off by almost all of them, "No it isn't! If it was fine we wouldn't be worrying over you would we?" _

"_I…Look I am sorry…I'll…I'll try to stop ok?" Ichigo stuttered and made a promise that was soon to be broken. Everyone there look at each other and back and nodded, believing in Ichigo. Ichigo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He might as well try for the time being…for his friends. _

_-Flashback End-_

I shook my head frantically.

_Why am I thinking back to these memories now? They're not important anymore. _

I brought myself back up and looked at the clock that was sitting on the desk. It showed 1:00 AM in bright red letters. Another sigh came and I just walked back to the kitchen area and looked around. I need something to get distracted. Maybe I can get some sleep afterward. Nothing was found as I searched and searched. One of the cabinets were open and I let myself walk over and close it. Once I did, I heard something bang or hit the end of the cabinet. I let my eyebrow rise questioningly and walked back to it. A shaky hand was let out to open up the cabinet. In it...was a gun. There was just one bullet left. An idea suddenly clicked into my head.

If life was so bad…and I had to suffer so much from it…Wouldn't dying be better than anything else? My shaky hand had already gripped it and it was examined closely. No regrets filled his heart. He was already unnoticed so who would notice him dead? I brought it up to my head and aimed the open to my head. My finger was on the trigger and I finally let my smile form. I let myself breathe in one last air of this Earth.

"Goodbye…" I whispered to myself and pulled the trigger. Blood exploded from my head as I finally died right there. No one was watching, no one woke…nothing.

I felt no regrets when I finally let go and committed suicide, but…now…I feel a huge pang of regret. Why?! Maybe is was because I didn't let my friends know..maybe they did care…but I just didn't realize it. I was the one being naïve. But that is already too late.

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End file.
